Fri 14 June 68
Chaleco salvavidas debajo de a parte anterior de su asiento, my friend. Or, your life vest is under your seat. This plane was built for Royal Pygmy Air. No hope of sleep tonight. Potatoes, meat & peas all taste alike – burnt. Dream of Toss…”If I give in too thee am I not lost? Divided, doubled, thrown quite off my track?” Doubling doesn’t sound too bad. And I am “track suspicious” by nature… Seems like the dumbest group of Spanish girls become stewardesses. Reading Alec Waugh’s not very good Island in the Sun. He’s not the Tolstoy he thinks he is. “You’re mine, mine, all mine” I’m embarrassed for you, Mr. Waugh. Could any actor bring that line to life? Rewrite! Now landing in Madrid. Mansfield Youth Hostel, Luxembourg. 15 June 68 Try to read…Wonder, where I was a week ago? Look up from my book and gasp! Incredible loneliness! Or is it nausea? Gawp openmouthed like fish as I dream of Toss. Didn’t he say we could spend August at his place in the Berkshires? When w lay on my bed (the most comfortable bed I n the world) he said he subscribed to the Theory of Compensation because the universe brought him Me. Does that mean something terrible must follow, like my sudden fury to Detach, Escape? Hope I’m not hell for him as I’ve been heaven. Nothing to see at the Madrid airport. But the bus ride through Germany and Luxembourg was exhilarating! Imagine me & Toss rattletrapping the Autobahn. (He speaks German & spent a summer there, picking cherries.) Adorable French colonial architecture reminds me of Morocco. Absence makes the heart FORGET! But Toss told me he never would. One cannot fear such things – to fear is to begin to die. Here to Paris on Mon; Paris to London Thurs, off 27th (or thereabouts) for Stockholm. Will I be the loving or the unloving Alysse ruled by what dead or living shadow? On the Wrong Train headed for Treves, Luxembourg, Sun 16 June 1968 In the spirit of my new motto, “En cas de doute, essayez le” (sorry St Augustine) jumped aboard this train and learned the following Important Lesson: when you get on a train ask where the hell it’s going. Just because it’s at the right place at the right time doesn’t mean a thing. I seem to have stumbled onto the French equivalent of the Chestnut Hill Local. The conductor is letting me ride back and forth for nothing. My luggage is on the right train (to Metz.) Oh goody. Because of the Paris postal strike Dad’s Paris co probably doesn’t know I’m even coming. I suppose I’ll have to call them from Luxembourg. God only knows how much THAT will cost. If they don’t care about me or my father it’ll be youth hostelling again. Let’s hope they care about my welfare. I hate having to break into my traveler’s checks. Charming countryside. And I have all the time in the world.
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Alysse Aallyn
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